


I’ll See You When the Violence Ends

by ByTheAngell (SomeLittleInfamy)



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Background Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:09:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24337177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeLittleInfamy/pseuds/ByTheAngell
Summary: With tensions rising between the Nephilim and the Downworlders, Isabelle finds herself inexplicably drawn toward the enemy... or rather, one in particular.
Relationships: Isabelle Lightwood/Meliorn
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18
Collections: SHBingo





	I’ll See You When the Violence Ends

**Author's Note:**

> For my Shadowhunters Bingo square: Enemies to Lovers. 
> 
> A/N: This is set in an Alternate Timeline where the Accords were broken by the Uprising, the Circle’s influence won out, and taking trophies from killed/captured Downworlders is A Thing™ again.

The first time Isabelle comes across a Downworlder on her own she’s ten years old. She sneaks out in the middle of the night, long after her parents’ normal second round of checks on her and her siblings to make sure they’re _actually_ in bed and not ignoring curfew by going up on the roof or to each other’s rooms.

She’d seen plenty of Downworlders brought into the Institute by the older Shadowhunters - ones who were caught breaking the laws. She often wonders why they can’t just listen, like she does, and stay in line. They’re sentiments she’s heard voiced by her parents: the Downworlders simply don’t know their place, if they’d fall in line they wouldn’t be hunted, wouldn’t be hurt. Isabelle believes that because she doesn’t know any better. After all, she follows the rules and knows her place, and she’s just fine.

Isabelle is too young to be out alone, fresh off her first rune ceremony the week before, but she goes anyway. She’s curious. She doesn’t intend on being seen, she just wants to _see_ , to catch a glimpse for herself of a Seelie just out and about, doing whatever it is they do when they aren’t… well, in trouble.

“You shouldn’t be here,” comes the voice behind her.

Isabelle spins around with a gasp. She hadn’t heard anyone come up behind her, how--

It’s a Seelie Knight. She sees the way he looks down at her, though despite the tone of warning behind his words he looks… amused.

“Aren’t you a little young to be out claiming victims alone at night?” He looks around then, as if expecting someone else to come out of the shadows behind her. “Or is this a set-up? You scream for help, I get taken in for attacking a poor, defenseless Nephilim child?”

“What?” Isabelle manages, confused by his reaction. “No. Why would I do that?”

The Seelie only shakes his head.

“You’re not going to, are you? Attack me?” Isabelle asks uncertainly. She didn’t take any of the weapons because she didn’t want anyone to notice one missing, but now she regrets the decision because the Seelie’s description is right: she is defenseless, at least against someone like him.

“No,” he says. “Contrary to what your people may want you to believe, we aren’t all monsters.”

Isabelle feels relief at that. Seelies can’t lie, so he has to be telling the truth.

“Why _are_ you here?” The Seelie asks her curiously.

Isabelle wonders if there’s an answer she can give that isn’t going to get her into trouble. “I wanted to see for myself,” she admits, a bit cryptically but better than nothing.

“See what?” The Seelie prompts.

“Magic,” Isabelle nearly whispers the word, foreign and taboo. The entrances to the Seelie realms are meant to be a sort of magic, as are the wards guarding them. And she knows the Seelies themselves are capable of magic too, usually involving nature… she hoped if she saw some of them, and they didn’t realize she was watching, she might get to see some of it herself and know what all the fuss is about.

She expects him to be angry, but he surprises her again by laughing.

“Magic… like this?”

Isabelle watches as he bends over the smallest bud of a flower to the right of where they stand, cupping his hands over it with so much tenderness and care, then pulling them away to see a new, full bloom.

Her first thought is that it’s beautiful. Her next thought, as sharp as a mental slap, is that she shouldn’t think it’s beautiful. The magic the Downworlders have is a threat, the demonic blood it’s born from an abomination.

Isabelle turns without another word and sprints back to the Institute, checking behind her every so often half-expecting him to be in pursuit.

The Seelie doesn’t follow and Isabelle doesn’t tell anyone about her encounter, not even Alec.

\-------------

Isabelle sees many Downworlders after that, sometimes with others but sometimes alone, and every time ends the same: with her target in custody or a trophy in her hands. She doesn’t think twice of it: her training ensures that any sympathy she has for those with demon blood is wiped away entirely, her success as a Shadowhunter depends on it.

There are expectations placed upon her as a Lightwood. They are, after all, second only to the Morgensterns in terms of family legacies. There are a lot of benefits to being a Lightwood, but only if she earns them.

And earn them she does. She and Alec are forces to be reckoned with. Alec and his parabatai, Jace Wayland, are nearly unstoppable soldiers in the field. Isabelle and her parabatai, Clarissa Morgenstern, are just as deadly. The four of them are the top of their class, easily surpassing their peers and earning assignments of their own as early as thirteen years old.

Isabelle is 15 when she sees the Seelie Knight again.

She faces him in a dark corner of a park where the Seelies Clarissa is meant to be tracking will run towards to flee back to their realm. He’s the first to cross her path.

“You’re not alone tonight,” he says simply, eyeing her fighting stance and activated runes. “And no longer defenseless.”

She remains silent. For a moment she remembers his kindness before but instead of softening her eyes narrow.

Isabelle tenses as he shifts his position to be near a large tree, and she wonders if it’s to draw magic from it. She knows Seelies can call weapons from the earth and she pulls at the bracelet around her wrist, the adamas shifting into a whip in her hands.

“What? Don’t you want to witness my magic again?” he asks, a harsh edge to his words as a vine drops down from above her, pulling her feet out from under her as it wraps around her ankles and tugs. Isabelle gives a shout and falls, watching him move easily past her. Using his magic to access the Seelie Realm he vanishes from sight while she dangles upside-down by the tree.

He could’ve killed her.

She would’ve killed him.

Isabelle is more than a little confused and has a lot of time to stew in her thoughts before Clary comes to cut her down and take her home, keeping the particulars of how the Seelies slipped away from their follow-up report .

\------------

Isabelle is sixteen when she sees the Seelie Knight again. The altercations between the Shadowhunters and the Downworlders turn more frequent - reports of another start coming in almost every other day at this point. She can feel the small encounters building in tension and severity, wondering when they’ll turn to battles, and when those battles will turn to a proper war.

She’s part of a raid that will serve to be a turning point for all involved - one on the Dumort itself, staged at midday so the vampires had little chance to flee. She doesn’t like it - something about the whole set-up doesn’t sit well with her. They’re told the building is harboring fugitives to the Clave, but they’re given no specifics on who or what crimes they’ve committed. They’re not told who inside may be innocent, or given specific targets, and no one asks.

It isn’t a raid - it’s a slaughter. The vampires fight back, because of course they do, and the few who don't flee through secret exits and underground tunnels die bloody.

There’s so much going on that even those who get kills don’t have the time or opportunity to stop and take their spoils - but Isabelle comes across the dead body of Camille in her attempts to find her parabatai in the wide expanse of the hotel, and stops to slide the ruby necklace off the vampire’s neck and hold it delicately in her hands.

When she looks up the Seelie Knight is there, staring at her with just a hint of surprise underneath his otherwise neutral expression.

The vampires must’ve called backup. And if the Seelies are here, to help the _vampires_ of all Downworlders, Isabelle doesn’t like the implications of that for the Nephilim in all of this. Keeping them divided and equally at odds with each other as they are with the Shadowhunters was always a strategy hammered into them from a young age.

It takes Isabelle a second in her panic to realize that his look of surprise isn’t at her, however.

“Camille...” he says the name softly, sadly, almost like a goodbye. Then his eyes catch on the necklace in Isabelle’s hands and he’s across the room before she can blink, the blade of his spear pressed against her throat.

Isabelle’s eyes widen. “It wasn’t me,” she says instinctively. She doesn’t know why - she’s here, after all, she’s a part of this whether this particular life was taken by her hand or not.

It has the desired effect, however, and the Seelie hesitates.

A voice calls from the hallway, shouting “Meliorn! In here!”

The Seelie Knight looks Isabelle over, considering her finally, before lowering his weapon and turning to follow the call out of the door and down the hallway.

On her way to warn the others to retreat she slips the necklace into her pocket and files the name away in her mind for the future.

Meliorn.

\---------

Isabelle is out on a routine patrol when she sees the warlock child. She knows the girl is a warlock because she’s seen her with the others on occasion, both on and off the battlefield. For a split second Isabelle considers following her to a less public area to kill her - one less warlock to kill the Nephilim later, after all. Except this isn’t a battle, and while there are no strict rules governing chance public encounters - and while Isabelle knows that many others would certainly seize this opportunity and judge her for allowing it to pass - she can’t bring herself to kill in cold blood.

“Hey,” Isabelle says instead, making her presence known and approaching the warlock with her weapons sheathed. “It isn’t safe for you to be this far alone. Do you know your way back home?”

The child nods.

“Head that way. And travel with a friend next time.”

“I can take care of myself,” the girl states, magic flaring at her fingertips, and for a second Isabelle wonders if she hasn’t made a mistake in judgment. But then the magic is gone again after the quick display, and Isabelle relaxes.

“I’m sure you can,” Isabelle says, and turns to head back to the Institute.

A few moments later she hears footsteps behind her, and then a voice.

“Why did you do that?” Meliorn asks.

“Do what?” She questions, though she already knows.

“Try and warn her?” He clarifies.

Isabelle frowns. “She’s a child, and she’s alone. You really think so little of me to think I’d kill her where she stands? She’s done nothing wrong.”

“She’s been in the battles. I’ve seen her,” Meliorn points out.

“So have you and I, and yet here we are,” Isabelle counters.

Meliorn smirks. “So we are,” he says.

There’s a charged moment between them during which Isabelle’s fight-or-flight instinct flares within her. Allowing the child to walk away was one thing, but Meliorn?

He seems to consider the same thing, sizing her up, that casual smirk of amusement never faltering.

Without a word he turns to leave.

Isabelle hesitates, once more uncertain if she should allow him to so easily, but reminds herself that he’s doing the same for her. Should they come to arms she may very well lose, and she doesn’t favor the idea of dying alone in an alley on a routine patrol.

She watches him go, curiously, before leaving herself.

\--------

Isabelle sees Meliorn more often after that, though she wishes she wouldn’t. As she feared, the occasional fight turns into the occasional proper _attack_ , and though the Seelies stay out of it more than the vampires, werewolves, and warlocks, they can no longer stay entirely removed as their Queen would prefer.

Isabelle watches Meliorn pierce through the hearts of Nephilim - fellow Shadowhunters, people she cares for, _friends_ \- while he witnesses her take talons and pointed ears and warlock marks as spoils of her own battles won. Despite the times they met in the past and walked away from one another she has no doubt now, as their eyes meet in a fiery glare, that should they meet alone again it would end much differently.

And it does, but not in the way she expects.

It’s meant to be a fact-gathering mission: Isabelle is alone, intending on keeping a safe distance and following undetected behind the Seelies as they leave the meeting they had with Magnus Bane and return to their realm. She’s meant to find and report on the location of the entrance, as well as note how many of them attended and the sort of weaponry they seem to be outfitted with. Simple intelligence gathering.

Or at least, it should be.

She’s following behind when she notices that there’s one fewer Seelie in front of her than there should be. Almost instantly she feels hands grabbing roughly at her shoulders, pulling her into a shadow-covered side street.

“Why are you following me?” Meliorn demands - and of course it’s him, Isabelle thinks. Except… maybe this can work in her favor.

She doesn’t answer at first, her mind working in overdrive to plan her way out of this.

“I should kill you for this,” he points out. He could. They’ve both killed for less.

She can’t get to her weapons fast enough, or her stele to activate any runes. She’s at the disadvantage, so she either talks her way out of this (which seems unlikely) or…

“Why don’t you, then?” She challenges. It’s a gamble, banking on the fact that he let her live before and little else, but if it works it could buy her the distraction she needs to not just stay alive, but still get the intel she came for. The fact that he doesn’t react immediately is all the encouragement she needs to try.

Impulsively she leans forward, clearing the space between them to press her lips against his. He tenses but doesn’t move away. After a moment he pushes forward and she thinks, just for a second, that he’s going to kill her anyway. Instead he presses her against the wall behind her forcefully as he moves into the kiss. It’s a heated moment, over as quickly as it began when the sound of approaching footsteps reach them and Meliorn tears himself away as intensely as he’d surged forward.

“Go,” he says, and she pretends to, disappearing around the corner as he goes back to his people.

Except she doesn’t actually leave.

Isabelle waits, watching him go, and then re-activates a rune to quiet her steps to follow behind more carefully this time, watching him step _into_ a tree trunk, vanishing from sight. Isabelle counts to 30, slowly, before following behind. She goes through the entrance and finds herself in the Seelie Realm, trying to take it all in --

\--turning to see Meliorn waiting for her, looking disappointed.

“I thought you were better than this,” he says, lifting his hand up. Instead of raising a weapon he opens his palm and blows a powder… no, pollen… into her face. Isabelle barely has time to register what’s happening before she tilts to the side, drowsy, and then falls unconscious into Meliorn’s waiting arms.

She wakes up on the ground beside the tree, and when she stands to touch it the entrance is closed, the tree solid, and no trace of Meliorn or the Seelie Realm besides the slight itch of pollen in her nose.

Damn.

\---

Shortly after, Isabelle is called into Valentine’s office.

“Put on your best dress, Isabelle,” he tells her. “You’re going to the Seelie Realm.”

Isabelle freezes. Did someone see her with Meliorn? Had he said something, and now she’s being turned over… as what? A bargaining chip? A trade?

A sacrifice?

“For what purpose?” Isabelle asks, keeping her voice steady.

“An act of goodwill. The Seelie Queen has information regarding a vampire den turning children, but will only give it to us on her terms, one of which is that we come to her for it, the other a temporary truce with her people in return for continued intel.” Valentine looks pleased, and she can see why. It’s a good trade for all involved.

“Why me?” Isabelle can’t help but ask. She’s young, inexperienced in the finer matters of political dealings. This is absolutely not something she’d normally be sent on. There are many more skilled than her, many trained for this very task, who should be going instead.

“You were requested specifically,” Valentine says, eyebrow raised. “Any idea why that may be?”

Isabelle shakes her head despite her very strong suspicions. Valentine hums in response but doesn't push the question.

“It should be straightforward. Give her our word for our end of the bargain, get what information she has currently, leave. We’ll brief you before you go, tell you what you can and can’t agree to… you know how _their kind_ can be, playing games with their words. You’ll need to stay sharp, but you’re a fine Shadowhunter, Miss Lightwood. One of our best. I have no doubt you’ll be fine.”

Isabelle forces a smile and nods. “Of course, Sir. You can count on me.”

\---

The next day, with as much training as they could cram into the short span of hours, Isabelle finds herself at one of the ever-changing entrances to the Seelie Realm.

Meliorn is there to meet her. She expected to see him, of course, but she also expected to see more than _just_ him. A test, perhaps, of the Shadowhunters’ ability to be trusted with their promise of truce, to not have a full guard on her for the journey? Isabelle hesitates only a moment before following him into the water in front of them.

The Seelie Realm is beautiful and Isabelle stares in wonder around her. The last time she managed to sneak in for just a moment it wasn’t long enough to get a proper look, but now her eyes linger on the trees and flowers, the bugs that seem abundant but never crowding or overwhelming. She’s so entranced by it that she nearly forgets why she’s here, with Meliorn several yards ahead before she starts after him.

Though they travel in silence, with Isabelle following only half a step behind Meliorn once she catches up she finds it’s less of an escort and more of a pleasant walk. His weapon is relaxed at his side, she notes, her own hand grazing over the holster she wears under her dress just in case.

The million questions Isabelle has all seem to die on her tongue as she realizes she’s more afraid of getting an answer she doesn’t want than being left to wonder.

She isn’t left to wonder for long.

Mere minutes later Meliorn directs her into a tent. It quickly becomes clear that this is a home, a _bedroom_.

“Why am I here?” Isabelle asks finally, unsure if she means ‘here’ in the Realm at large or ‘here’ in this room specifically.

“Because I wanted you here,” Meliorn replies simply. She sees the desire in his eyes, brazen and without pretense.

“The meeting with the Seelie Queen--” Isabelle starts.

“Is very real, as is the deal to be struck. This is simply a detour, should you agree. I thought it a shame to waste the truce between our people for however little time it may last.” Meliorn sets his weapon down in the corner of the room.

Isabelle takes a tentative step forward from where she paused by the entrance.

“But you can’t possibly like me…. Or trust me,” she adds for good measure. How could either of them after watching the other take the lives of their friends and family countless times? She’s surprised then, after a moment of reflection, to realize she doesn’t actually blame him personally - not when he’s in the same position she is, simply a soldier carrying out orders. There were many times she doubted her assignments, questioned her own actions, even regretted them… did the same hold true for Meliorn? Did he regret the Nephilim lives he took?

“I don’t have to trust you to make love to you,” Meliorn doesn’t bother with trying to ‘woo’ her or anything as mundane as that. “And ‘ _like’_ and ‘ _desire’_ are two separate emotions.”

She huffs out a breath of a laugh in disbelief. He isn’t wrong, it’s just the last thing she’d expected to be faced with after all the worrying and careful planning put into this trip, agonizing over her every action, her every word to the Seelies in their realm. And now…

...now, Meliorn stares at her, waiting patiently for her to give any sign of agreement of what he’d like to happen next, with a fire burning bright in his eyes. She feels it too. There’s been a spark between them since long before that encounter in the alleyway, something that sends a shiver down her spine every time they lock eyes and heat rippling through her every time he draws near. She wondered if he felt it, too, and now she knows he did. He still does.

“Alright,” she says finally, moving forward toward him, stopping just short of touching. They lock eyes again, those sparks mirrored in them, while slow, eager smirks spread across each of their mouths before they meet fiercely. There’s no slow start, no steady buildup before Isabelle pulls Meliorn with her as she takes several steps backward until the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. He falls on top of her and, in the back of her mind, Isabelle is dimly aware of a muted instinct to panic at being crowded and pinned down by the Seelie.

It’s silenced by the waves of pleasure that wash over her with each brush of teeth, of hands, of lips and tongue. Could it be this simple, this black and white?

Isabelle never imagined any decision could feel this effortless… but she hasn’t made all that many _decisions_ before, has she? It’s always been orders and protocol and expectations.

But not this. This is something different.

She isn’t a soldier here, or a sister, or a parabatai. There is no love demanded of her, no expectation or trust or devotion.

There’s only temporary truce and desire, a combination Isabelle’s growing more fond of by the second as she, for the first time in a very long time, loses herself in something entirely her own.

**Author's Note:**

> (Find me on [Tumblr](http://bytheangell.tumblr.com) and also on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/By_The_Angell)! <3 )


End file.
